ice cream man

I’ve always wanted to live on a street that was visited by the ice cream man in the summer and now decades later, this is true (albeit more than a quarter of a century too late!).

Last weekend, after hearing the familiar chimes of nursery rhymes coming from the street, I raced from one end of the house to the other, sing-songingly saying "ice cream man, ice cream man". The glimpse of the lime green and white truck caused quite a stir, not only for me but for all the neighbourhood kids clustered by our place (they like to play football in the driveway in the vacant row house adjacent to us). From the window, I watched them flip their empty pockets inside out and then immediately scattered, either on foot or a scooter, to their respective homes looking for change. When the ice cream truck returned, it was like the pied piper doing his magic: enticing kids to buy frozen treats more than their little hands could carry.